


Sexual Relations

by jellytea



Category: Miranda (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellytea/pseuds/jellytea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Five Acts meme for Aurilly on LJ. The prompt was: getting drunk: drunken hook-ups, in vino veritas, hung-over and confused morning afters, etc.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sexual Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Five Acts meme for Aurilly on LJ. The prompt was: getting drunk: drunken hook-ups, in vino veritas, hung-over and confused morning afters, etc.

The last time I had gotten obscenely drunk was after that annoying Amanda Barnes had gotten under my skin, what with her ovaries and her business management and...other...rude statements about me not being cool. Never mind that I am indeed not cool. (Rude.) Which had led to the reckless and wild night at the Hamilton Lodge. And then a hazy memory that included me collapsing on top of Gary, and then a horrifying glimpse of Clive in tiger-leopard-oh, one of those animal patterned pants.

(Let's go on quickly, to forget what we just saw.)

But right now, I was sure I was getting quite close to just how drunk I had been that night. And who could blame me, after everything I had gone through, thanks to Gary and his gorgeousness and his ability to confuse me and his hugs, which aren't given as often because of the whole not-talking-to-him because of his Hong Kong wife and his lies... Where was I? Oh, yes. Tonight. And the massive amounts of wine and other drinks and the mood lights at this posh club. I was wearing my most slimming dress - the one that had gotten caught in a cab, but nevermind, I did get it back after running a few yards - red and plunging. (I was determined to look like a new woman, confident and posh and not at all awkward and socially inept, to let Gary realize what he was missing, my sweeping Rubenesque body and all.)

But now, Gary is getting closer, and I am very aware that I keep thinking of him in a sexual way, and thank god that there aren't any of those stools that spin, or those slippery lounge couches, or else I would be on the ground, not at all composed. He smells lovely and woo-hoo he's wearing that black button-up that makes my insides go all wibbly, and his stubble is just begging to be petted... I've seen him nursing the same glass of beer for the past hour, so there's no reason for him to look all intense, because we are, in fact, over and have definitely tabled the whole idea of... _sex_. Haven't we?

"Do you remember, Miranda, what you said to me, in the hotel room, when I had saved you from ironing your leg?" Gary is smiling that side smile, that bastard, looking all endearing and mischevious. I sniff and squint at him.

"I have no idear what you're talking about - and when you address Her Majesty, I-"

Oh. And there are his lips. On mine. Ooh. His stubble feels nice. My hands goes - INVOLUNTARILY I must add - to pet it - I mean, to stable myself. (I have drunk a few gin and tonics...and those yummy pink daquiris...and a few bottles of white wine. RUDE. DON'T JUDGE. Drinking is an acceptable form of social behavior, and if my mouth is filled - naughty! - with drink, then it will be less prone to verbal diarrhea, and less susceptible to that habit of spewing out lies to socially impress.) I forgot how good of a kisser Gary was, you know, absent of burping or Windys.

Wait. I must stop this! But this feels so nice. And his hands are around my shoulders now. And...

 

-

 

"Gary! Gary! GARY!"

Oh yes, just open your eyes blearily, you gorgeous not-alpha-male you. What happened? I know I am all woman and all alluring, but this is NOT acceptable. Especially since I wasn't aware if my breasts had clapped during the night, or if any body part had moved unappealingly... NOT THE POINT. I am most definitely not alone in my bed, and despite the warmth radiating from Gary's toned - oh, so toned - body, this morning is, what I call, confusing. (Oh, no, why is this the moment that I would start mimicking my mother? Oh, and now I have a vision of mum in my head. Which, shouldn't be there, because this is a very _sexual_ moment and I'd rather she was gone from my head very quickly.)

"You're lovely," Gary murmured, smiling sleepily up at me, propping his chin on top of his crossed arms. My mouth drops open.

"IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY? GARY! WHAT. HAPPENED." By now, I've grabbed my robe off my bedroom chair and wrapped it around me. No more of Gary seeing my womanly body, not in the bright of day, no siree.

Gary just softly laughs and pulls me back into bed, and wraps his arms around my middle, ignoring my squawk of indignence. "I like you, Miranda, despite your early moring craziness. Now come on, let's be domestic, at least until it's time for me to head to work."


End file.
